


I Don't Dance

by anthonyjanthony



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Charlotte is there but as a friend, First Kiss, Hard to explain, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Matchmaking, Searching for freedom, Slow Dancing, Suicidal Thoughts, but like, it's more metaphorical, not actually considered or acted upon, shameless binotto slander, so there are like... moments of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:46:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29817585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthonyjanthony/pseuds/anthonyjanthony
Summary: For the first time all year, he felt hungry for something other than victory. For Seb’s lips, their taste- champagne drunk and sweet and reminiscent of the type of perfection he could never seem to find in himself...
Relationships: Charles Leclerc/Sebastian Vettel
Comments: 9
Kudos: 38





	I Don't Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by I Don't Dance by Chad and Ryan from High School Musical 2 :)

“I look ridiculous.” 

Charles tugged at the cuff of his jacket, forcing the fabric further down his wrist, as if that would make the garment any more appealing. As if that would shield the sight of the sculpted appearance he kept chiseling himself to fit. The white cotton of a button-down peeked out underneath, his arms too long for the blazer and too short for the dress shirt. He sighed and let his arms fall, looking at himself in the mirror as though glaring hard enough would make the image disappear

“You don’t,” Charlotte responded, approaching from behind and hooking an arm around his, her touch so light it hardly creased the fabric. “This is right for today.”

Charles scoffed, staring at the contrast between her golden skin and his jacket. “Easy for you to say,” he retorted, “You look amazing.” 

Charlotte’s gown was the color of clovers and northern lights, made of shimmery fabrics Charles didn’t recognize. It brought out the glow in her skin and made the scent of her perfume -coconut, with hints of strawberry- potent enough to believe that the flowers sprawling along her torso were real, like the veins of envy creeping up his neck.

The tight-fitting suit the color of dried blood his manager had provided for this evening under the guise of a suggestion made Charles want to tear apart both outfits piece by piece until there was nothing left in his hands but thread. 

But this was nothing but another red garment to grin and bear and wear like all the faded smiles and wrung emotion he had learned to accept as a part of himself this year.

“Well, today’s not about us, is it?” she answered, jostling his arm.

Charles sighed. No, today wasn’t about them. Today was about someone else. Today was about moving forward, about how hard that was going to be, about tearful hugs and drinking until time stopped and the tide that fills gaps between silent ships. 

“It’s for Sebastian,” he conceded, the man’s full name hitting his tongue like a curse.

Sighing, he nodded to Charlotte and gave himself one last critical look in the mirror before extending his arm for her to take. She detached from his shoulder and accepted, allowing him to lead them out of the hotel room. “Thanks for agreeing to be my date, again,” He murmured when they reached the elevator. 

“Thanks for asking.” Charlotte grinned, stepping in beside him after a chime announced the elevator’s arrival. “Seriously, I’m excited.”

“What, to meet the team responsible for fucking up my entire season? Or to share drinks with the man who let Sebastian go?” 

He’d stepped too far, his tone too bitter, and Charles scrunched his nose in regret the instant the words left his mouth. “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-,”

“And if they’re lucky they’ll hear a few words about that from me,” Charlotte interrupted, pressing her hand to Charles’ shoulder blade. Her touch was soft and Charles leaned into it, knowing the ferocity in her voice was only there to make him laugh away the bitterness. It was hard not to be grateful all the same. It was hard not to hate himself for letting the pain eating away at his fingertips brush against Charlotte every time they touched.

“I’m excited,” she continued, taking his arm when the elevator doors reopened into a cavernous marble hallway, “finally getting to see all of you guys just… take a breath.” 

“Take a breath?”

“Inhale. Exhale. You know?” 

Charles wanted to scoff, wanted to maintain some semblance of the pompous, confident aura he had managed all year. The one he knew drove people around him mad, the one he had clutched onto the way a child clutches a doll because it was the last line of defense between himself and a plunge into total oblivion. 

But the year was over. There was nothing more to say, nothing more to hide. 

It was time to breathe. 

A balcony awaited them at the end of the hallway, opening up the horizon into a sunset like brushed gold and amber, so deep in color it could have been a painting, turning pillars and rooftops and the gold adorning Charlotte’s neck into embers. Charles glanced down at himself and noticed the glow of the sun had turned his suit a few shades closer to Ferrari red. It didn’t remove the sour taste from his mouth, but at least this was a color he had grown comfortable in, enough that he could pretend to like it.

The beginnings of a celebration flickered below, nestled in the hotel garden underneath strings of fairy lights and ivory tents far too large for the sparse crowd. Music in a language Charles couldn’t understand at this speed filled the air loud enough to hear from the balcony, and the clicking of dull metal against concrete told him Charlotte was already tapping her foot along to the beat. The evening sung with the promise of excitement. Of a glorious ending. 

All of a sudden Charles didn’t want to go down. 

“Let’s go,” Charlotte said, after giving him a moment to hesitate. “It’ll be better when we get down there.”

“I wasn’t- I’m fine,” he responded, one hand reaching up to fix the strands of hair skimming his forehead, the other still clutched fast onto the rail. “I’m alright, Charlotte.”

Charlotte shook her head and removed his hand from the balcony, taking it into her own. “I know you are,” she said with a smile. “But I want to go meet some of your hot team members, and you already promised to introduce me. So come on.”

This was a lie, betrayed by the way her eyes kept finding his, softened with sympathy, but it was one Charles felt happy to ignore, again grateful for Charlotte’s easy way of moving through the world. Her hand was made of silk and honey-scented lotion. His were covered in lines of calluses and mottled by the bruises inside each finger that hurt just enough to notice when she pulled him down the stairwell. 

A waiter stood at the base of the stairs, balancing flutes of champagne on a golden platter. With a welcoming grin and eyes that lingered on Charlotte’s waist, he offered drinks to the pair the moment their feet touched the cobbled garden floor. Charles accepted two glasses and handed one to her, thanking the waiter with a nod he felt disgusted offering, before allowing Charlotte to lead them toward the sound of conversation. 

“Gross,” she giggled, once shielded by the white marquee and clusters of milling partygoers. Charles scowled in agreement, taking a sip of his champagne and letting the bubbles dilute momentary annoyance into some sort of humor. 

“Absolutely disgusting,” he agreed.

“What is?” A voice questioned, one as recognizable as his own.

Turning toward the sound, Charles broke into an easy smile that flushed the fleeting traces of frustration from his face. “Good Evening, Seb,” he greeted as Sebastian emerged from the right, a teasing smile betraying the subtle taunts of intoxication more than the champagne glass in his hand.

Seb grinned wider and leaned in to nudge Charles’ shoulder with his fist. “Good evening,” he responded. Charles chuckled and nodded in his direction, while Charlotte waved in greeting. 

Charles felt her hand slip from his suit jacket. 

“So, do you two have any plans for the break?” Seb inquired, setting the empty glass down on a nearby table before shoving his hands into his pockets. Charles watched the way his thumbs came to rest atop the material with an interest that left his neck burning. Seb’s suit, midnight blue and tailored to perfection, left Charles’s heart thrumming in his ears, and his scent reminded him of carving the peels from oranges in his kitchen.

“I’m going home to spend some time with my sister. Charles promised to visit, but I doubt he’ll…” Charlotte took up the conversation with ease, more than adept at explaining both her own travel plans and Charles’ lack thereof. 

Charles stood there in comfortable silence and interjected on occasion, which rewarded him with Seb’s gaze flickering back and forth to a spot on the edge of his jaw, where it burned enough to scar. 

Once Charlotte had managed to divulge her entire summer itinerary, other guests began to approach the three of them, offering Charles courteous handshakes and words of greeting that he couldn’t help but compare to the hasty goodbyes thrown at Seb, eyes cast down and touches brief. He forced a scowl into a grimace of sympathy as Binotto himself approached to shake Seb’s hand before proceeding to embrace Charles, wishing him a happy summer with his shoulder clutched in a vice grip. 

Charles narrowed his eyes as he left. 

“It’s alright,” Seb consoled, taking a step toward him, his soft voice enough to soothe Charles’ frown. “He’s your problem now.” He smirked and Charles hid the flush it brought to his face by letting out a painful laugh and burying his head in his hands.

“Don’t remind me.”

“Okay, well, I can’t stick around to listen to this again,” Charlotte sighed, placing a hand on both of their shoulders. “I’m gonna go chat up the first man who will buy me a drink. Charlie, you okay?” She raised her eyebrows, looking to him for confirmation, which he offered with a nod. “Right then. Have a lovely evening, you two.”

Before either had a chance to respond, she floated away, her green dress cutting the air like shears through fabric. Charles wished he understood why Seb’s gaze on her retreating back sent jolts of pain to his chest. 

Then it was back on him, piercing and warm like bathing in sunlight, and he grinned in the glow. 

“They are selling drinks here?” Genuine bewilderment filtered Seb’s amused voice. 

“What else do you expect? We are still in the belly of the beast, as they say.” 

Seb nodded his head, failing in his attempt not to grin. “I suppose you are right. Well... Forza Ferrari then,” He gave a halfhearted cheer and crooked his head to peer at Charles, who flushed and grinned back.

“What?” Seb asked, mirroring his smile. 

“Nothing,” Charles returned, shaking his head. Determined not to let the grin fade, he took a sip of his champagne, emptying the glass and glancing back at Sebastian, who’s eyes continued to bore into him. Charles could feel the presence seeping under his skin like water through cracks - persistent, sustaining, and unfamiliar. Rushing like tides with every emotion he felt unprepared to experience. 

Unprepared to breathe in. 

Seb nodded, stepping towards him. “It’s good to see you smile again,” he murmured. His hand came to rest on Charles’ shoulder, furrowing the fabric of his blazer. Charles grinned wider. 

“You too,” he returned. Something inside Charles told him to stay like that, to hold Seb’s eyes with his own and drown alongside him. His eyes fell to Seb’ parted lips, then widened with the realization of the motion.

“We should probably go… socialize, you know?” He stuttered, stilling in his skin.

Seb ran a hand down the back of his head, then pulled it away as though dissatisfied with the feeling. “You’re right, we should,” he agreed, his smile now as cordial as every other fallacious grin milling through the rest of the party. Charles turned away, a strange burn licking his chest with its flames.

Then something pulled his hand away, lifting it into another’s grasp. Seb’s lips against his knuckles were warm. 

Charles’ head spun.

“Have fun,” Seb murmured as he let go of his hand. He nodded, watching Seb pick up his empty glass and begin to drift away. Watched as he strode into the embrace of vultures Charles’s didn’t dare recognize.

Seb’s departure left Charles flailing, sinking into crowds he had no interest in greeting. Caught by the arms of his grinning team principal, Charles found himself stumbling through the party in his grip, unable to to tear away for a moment’s solace. Champagne glasses, one after another, found their way into his hands and he drank without hesitation. After a while, they began to fade away the sting of words pounding on all sides, of fake tears and handshakes and the fact that Binotto’s suit was the same color as his own. 

Between bouts of painful chatter he scanned the crowd, insisting to himself it was Charlotte’s green hem for which his gaze searched.

When the moment arose to slip away, he seized it, ducking around waiters bearing empty trays and skittering against the cobbled path until he reached a stretch of lawn. Vacant despite the gathering nearby, it offered the tranquility Charles so craved, and he sighed in relief as he walked across the trimmed grass. A balcony awaited him at its edge, offering a sprawling view of the coastline, barren and serene, just below the cliff’s edge. 

With a vacant smile he watched the sun sink below a docile ocean and shivered, wondering if the sea below would catch him if he leaned over. Just a little further, just enough. He could fall away from the crowds ignoring his absence, the sound of bottles popping open, the patter of footsteps searching for a path, and the reek of perfumes and florals and shoe polish burning his nose. Falling not to escape, falling to seek a feeling he couldn’t bring himself to describe.

Maybe the sinking feeling in his gut would melt away if he sank too. 

He allowed the concept, a moment’s peace at the thought of drifting away like sea foam, because he knew quite well he would never do it. Never leave, never allow himself such liberty, such selfishness. The hunger always won out, in the end.

He inhaled as he turned to lean his back against the balcony, searching for the calming scent of salt and seawater, and instead finding something citrusy. Orange peels. 

“How did you get away?” The only thing he could think to say came tumbling out of his mouths before he could think it over. Seb’s grin returned some clarity to the champagne-clouded haze in his mind. 

“How did you?”

Charles chuckled and cocked his head to the side, inviting Seb to join him on the railing. “Got lucky, I suppose.”

“Ah. Me too then,” He responded, nodding as though unsure about his answer. Charles couldn’t find the energy to question him about it. Silence stretched between them like taffy, sweet and viscous, every minute sliding by slower than the last as Charles’ mind struggled to break free of the syrupy relief that was a moment alone with Sebastian that didn’t need him to talk. Didn’t require him to let his mind stretch and whirl and collide until the burning desire to do something he would regret rose once more.

Seb regained his voice just as comfort had settled against Charles’ sternum. “Come dance,” he instructed, hand already extended in offering. Charles laughed and turned back to the horizon, now so dark from the night air it was impossible to tell where the ocean’s pitch ended and the inklit sky began. 

“I don’t dance.” 

The feeling of saying it scorched like flames against his skin as if the sunset had returned for vengeance. He hated how the words felt on his tongue, he hated turning away from Seb, he hated the silence that fell between them as his eyes left the one person he couldn’t bear to be ripped away from. His own words had become foreign, lost in translation somewhere inside him. A drifting bottle, left to shatter. 

He couldn’t. Not here, not with Seb. It wasn’t who he was, wasn’t who he’d been told to be. 

Seb lowered his arm, and for a moment Charles assumed he'd walked away. But then his hand was there again, soft and slender and brushing his own as Sebastian joined him against the balcony, his expression the same unchanged look of amusement. 

“For me?” 

Then their hands were no longer touching but intertwined, Seb clutching Charles’ palm against his own, cool against warm and burning Charles from the inside out. He faced Seb and found confidence in the blue of his eyes, the same color as an ocean at dawn. An ocean to cradle him, to end his fall with gentle arms. “For you?”

It was not a question but a plea, one Charles begged of himself, low and quiet. He let it vanish into the night air like every syllable was nothing more than vapor. He thought about Charlotte, about the gold lighting up her eyes and burning against her skin, about her dress that has never been anything other than the color of clovers to him. He thought about who he’d become this year, about who he intended to be. He tried to think about the future and found nothing but the same question. For you? 

For Seb? Searching for the answer was painful, finding it even worse.

Seb did that for him. 

“Yes,” he responded, breaking eye contact with Charles for a moment to glance back at the party, which had not faded in its vigor with their absence but perhaps grown, now unfaded by two dimming lights searching for each other in the void of lost time. “This might be my- our last chance. I want to say goodbye.”

“By dancing with me?”

He didn’t answer. 

“Okay,” Charles murmured. What else was there to do now? What else would silence the voices in his head that screamed and howled at the prospect of a future without Seb? 

He let their intertwined hands fall near his hip and watched as Seb’s face broke into a smile that rivaled the lights filling the pavilion behind them. 

Beautiful. 

“Come with me.”

Seb led him through the gardens to another clearing, further from the marquee, enclosed by blooming white bushes and trees strung with fairy lights. Charles at last allowed himself to feel some sense of security, though he could still hear the strumming guitar in the distance and felt himself start to sway to the music. 

“Thought this would be better…” Seb murmured, letting go of Charles’s hand to gesture to the courtyard. Charles nodded.

“Yes, I agree,” He answered, drinking in the aroma of roses and orange so potent he could almost taste it. 

“You are a good dancer, right?” Sebastian inquired, extending his hand once again for Charles to grasp, which he did, easing into Seb’s embrace before his mind could weave an unwanted trace of hesitation.

He chuckled. “We’ll see.”

Seb hummed and inched closer, swaying them both to the music. His hands fidgeted around Charles’ waist until they found a spot he liked, while Charles hooked his around Seb’s neck and fought the urge to brush his thumbs against his neck. Sebastian’s skin burned in contrast to the damp air. Desperate for more, Charles bent his elbows, moving closer, and felt Sebastian’s grip on his torso tighten.

“How about this?” Sebastian looked up at him for confirmation. Charles nodded. The sea roared in Sebastian’s eyes, lit up by the twinkling lights encasing the garden, and Charles wished he was wearing anything but this shade of red. A bloodstain drifting over frothing waves, never quite getting clean.

As the band’s guitar met its final chord, the music began to shift, the new song slower and lilting like gusts of wind, guiding the pair in its current. Sebastian relaxed his movements and came to a near standstill, gaze still boring into Charles, while Charles began to close his eyes and hum along with the tune.

He felt Sebastian’s chuckle more than he heard it, singing through his chest and fingertips. “You know this song?” He asked.

“I don’t,” Charles returned, opening his eyes and hoping the blush on his face could be credited to champagne.

Seb didn’t seem to have any intention of allowing him that mercy. He grinned, a soft, teasing smirk somehow unlike every other he had worn all night, and tucked Charles’ body a little bit closer. Their shoes were brushing now. Charles could trace the lines shadowing his eyes from decades of laughing, feel his breath against his chin. He wondered if he tasted as good as he smelled. 

“Charles…” Seb murmured. His teeth were pearly, his tongue a tempting pink against pale lips.

“Sebastian.”

“You don’t call me that,” Seb murmured, his tone teasing, low as candlelight.

“Sebastian,” Charles repeated, this time closer to a beckon. From his lips, it might have been a prayer, solemn as the ones he recited as a child, if only Charles hadn’t lost those between sips of champagne. 

“Yes, Charles?”

Seb’s hands brushed against his hips as they raised to cup his face, making contact with the soft skin just underneath his ears, palms tracing the lines of his jaw. Charles was struck by how rough his touch was, each fingertip dry enough to crack and shadowed by bruises. It made it almost impressive how Seb was able to move with such grace, grasping Charles' face like the final trophy he’d yet to claim.

Every touch soft. Imperfect. Real. The feeling reminded Charles of his own hands, of the moments and worlds they shared, how the gap between their chests was gone and every other begging to be closed. 

“Kiss me.”

“Yes.” Seb’s response was not so much spoken as shared between them in a single breath, because Charles was already sharing his space, the air between them slipping away until there was nothing left but the burning feeling of each other’s touch. 

Fixed like a moth to a flame on Seb’s lips, Charles fell forward, any restraints he still bore broken and fluttering away into the night.

Their lips met, warm and insistent, everything colliding at once. Seb’s lips on his, his hands clutching his waist, everything Charles hadn’t let himself long for and everything he knew he needed. Seb tasted like champagne, like oranges. The kiss swelled with their shared breath, a shared inhale. 

He forced himself to be the one to end it. As though waking from a dream, he pulled away from Sebastian, catching the man with off guard with a hazy expression. And a grin. Seb was grinning.

“I… I’m sorry,” Charles whispered, burning in Sebastian’s arms. “I didn’t mean to… you didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to, yeah? You asked me, and I said yes,” Sebastian responded. “And I would say it again.” He ran his tongue over his top lip. Charles wondered if he could still taste him.

Charles steadied his grip on his shoulders and inhaled, with it coming the same balmy scent of orange peel he had noticed earlier. Not just orange peels, now that he was close enough to taste, but wildflowers too, overgrown and sweet, as if Seb had transported them to a field somewhere deep in nature. Somewhere he would never be told to let go. 

“I like your cologne,” he murmured, daring to lean in toward Sebastian’s neck. 

His responding chuckle trembled through them both. “I’m not wearing cologne.”

Curious, Charles leaned in and inhaled his scent again. “Oh.” He paused, watching Seb’s head tilt up to look him in the eyes. “You smell nice.”

With a growl that he could feel resonating from Seb’s chest to his, Sebastian claimed him once more, a drowning man grasping for the air in Charles’s lungs. 

Charles slid his hands from Seb’s neck to his waist. He tugged on the fabric of his blazer until their hips were touching and sighed against Seb’s lips when he deepened the kiss, parting Charles’s mouth with his own and attacking his bottom lip.

“I don’t-” Charles gasped, pulling away. Sebastian’s lips glistened. “...I don’t want you to leave me.” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Seb murmured, touching his thumb to Charles’s bottom lip. Charles fought a whimper. “Not without you.”

For the first time all year, he felt hungry for something other than victory. For Seb’s lips, their taste, champagne drunk and sweet and reminiscent of the type of perfection he could never seem to find in himself. 

He kissed him again, softer this time, letting the world slow to a standstill as he drank in every bit of Sebastian that he could. When they broke away, Charles was out of breath and panting but near tears with relief.

Standing up onto his toes, Seb kissed his forehead before bringing his arms around Charles’ neck, ensnaring him in a hug that brought his chin to Charles’s shoulder. In this embrace, they appeared almost indistinguishable from each other.

“Don’t let go,” Charles managed, his voice raspy. 

“Ok. We’ll keep dancing?”

An unspoken always flooded the space between them. 

. . .

“Have fun?” Charlotte’s first words as he approached her side, her arm already extended in waiting, made Charles choke on his own tongue. 

She smiled and looked him in the eyes with a serene look of amusement as he stammered to come up with an answer. “Uh… at the party you mean?” He answered, face heating despite the air that was now so cold it had begun to bite. “Yes, I have a great time.”

“I’m glad,” Charlotte responded as they reached the base of the staircase, where she paused, causing Charles to quirk an eyebrow. “But that’s not what I meant.” 

“It isn’t?”

She glanced back in the direction of the party, and he followed her gaze toward the trailing guests and dimming lights, the decorations being eyed by apprehensive cleanup staff nearby, the ocean’s distant serenity. And Seb, standing at the same railing Charles had slunk to earlier. Idling, looking off into the distance, perhaps lost in thought. Moonlight lifted the age from his frame, and against a void of darkness Charles couldn’t tear his eyes away from his subtle glow, from the blonde hair that slipped through his fingertips, from the memory of his taste lingering on his lips. 

“How did you know?” He voiced the only thought he dared to ask. 

Charlotte snickered. “Well for all the complaining you did about that color, I guess I shouldn’t have been too surprised that you took the opportunity to change out of it…”

Charles widened his eyes and glanced down, cursing to himself as he realised what he'd thrown on was not the same rusted red ensemble he had entered the party wearing, but Seb’s midnight blue suit.

Caught up in the anxiety that followed this realization, the fear that others at the party might’ve noticed this swap if they had spared so much as a glance in their direction, he didn’t realize Charlotte was staring at him until her hand brushed his arm and a soft laugh spilled into his train of thought. “Go,” she whispered, resting her head against his shoulder. “Go be with him.”

“What?”

“Charles,” she said, taking his hands into hers, “Go to him.” 

“I’m not gonna leave you-”

“I’ll be fine. I think I can find a hotel room on my own.” She raised an eyebrow. “Now do you want him or not?”

“...more than anything,” Charles murmured, his eyes beginning to sting. “More than, more than…”

“Shhh,” Charlotte interrupted, grasping his arm and rotating the both of them back in Seb’s direction. “Don’t tell me, mon ami. Tell him.”

He stilled. “Thank you, Charlotte,” he murmured. “Seriously, thank you.”

“Charles- go.”


End file.
